Debra Pickett

The whole pregnancy deal continues to be a fascinating exploration of evolution, biology and a few other areas of study I never anticipated researching.

First, I stand in awe of any situation that is humbling enough to move me off of one of my long-and-closely-held opinions. Right now, I'm backpedaling so fast, and on so many topics, that my heels have worn down.

There's the sleep thing: I've always been a person who needed very little sleep to begin with. And, beyond that, I've always approached the question of sleep with a certain amount of discipline: lights off, quiet room, good pillow . . . assemble all the components in the right way and a good night's rest is yours. My parents proudly claim to have had baby me sleeping through the night at three months old and I've never seen any reason to question either their story or their method. I planned to have my kid doing the same thing before the end of my maternity leave.

Instead, without even being born yet, the kid has decided to show me who's boss. And, through an impressively elaborate combination of kicks, wiggles, jabs to the bladder and/or other internal organs, baby has made it known that, from now on, sleep happens in two-hour shifts. With breaks in between. Not necessarily at night.

All logical explanations about the need to work, meet deadlines, etc., have been ignored.

Then there's the whole mood/hormone thing. This has never been a hugely popular stance with friends, but I pretty much don't believe in PMS and other such phenomena. My basic stance is this: if you're going to be bitchy, be bitchy. Don't make some hormonal excuse about it. The whole my-wacky-female-body-chemistry argument is too easily used against us. We're all adults and we ought be able to manage our emotional responses to things, or at least hold in the tears until we get to the bathroom.

But, pathetic as it is, my emotions of the last few weeks have been -- quite literally -- text-book predictable. I've cried about having ants in our kitchen. And about the fact that the nursery STILL isn't painted. Each of which is specifically mentioned as a typical "nesting instinct" response to this phase of pregnancy. I find it incredibly annoying to have feelings that are so outside my normal emotional range, but, even worse, are so utterly trite.

I'm still kind of wrangling with the potential biology-is-destiny/no-it-isn't-dammit aspects of all this.

As a matter of principle, it's important to me to believe that pregnancy is, in a certain sense, no big deal. Nothing that should preclude me from doing my job and living my life as I always have. In physical practice, that is much harder than I would have expected.

I'm in pretty much the gold standard situation -- a physically undemanding job with flexible hours, supportive bosses and fine (if very pricey) health care -- and I find myself very close to requesting special dispensation for office napping. At this point, only my proud and stubborn nature are preventing it.

Of course, pride is rapidly falling away. This morning, I asked R. to fasten my shoes for me because I couldn't bend down to reach them. (The end of flip flop weather was a devastating blow, requiring the purchase of a pair of pretty seriously unattractive size 7s.)

And, meanwhile, everywhere I go, people look at me with a weird blend of sweetness, pity and anxiety. "When are you due?" I'm asked by everyone from baristas to interview subjects, all of whom have the same, slightly uncomfortable it-must-be-really-damn-soon look in their eyes. Even cabbies seem heistant to pick me up for fear of being the reluctant hero of one of those wretched baby-born-in-taxi stories.

Without playing the pregnancy card, I don't have a good excuse (beyond, you know, not getting paid for it or anything and having another full-time job to do) for not blogging this week.

And I'd still like to believe that I am above that. So, for several more weeks -- as long as I can possibly last -- I resolve to get back on the close-to-daily blogging bandwagon. And, should I doze off in the middle of a post, well, it's just because I pulled an all-nighter doing something official and important sounding.